


sixteen.

by pettycures



Category: OFWGKTA, Odd Future, Tyler the Creator (Musician)
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, First Kiss, Hanging Out, Making Out, Teenagers, Young Tyler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 18:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16270184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pettycures/pseuds/pettycures
Summary: The joys of being an awkward teenager.





	sixteen.

**Author's Note:**

> something cute i wrote in 2013.

It took me almost an hour just to hold his hand.

And I felt stupid as fuck about it. He could tell, looking over at my scowling face before laughing. I hit him in the chest.

“ **It’s not my fault you look like you eat ass**.”

“ **Shut up**.”

It got quiet and tense again, and in the midst of that I managed to slip my fingers between his hesitantly until he eagerly responded by rubbing the skin above my knuckles. I felt like porcelain…and all I could think about now was when I would shatter into a billion pieces.

He looked over at me, meeting my curious gaze with an expression of child-like excitement, and I couldn’t help but turn red along with him before diverting my eyes.

It could’ve been worse.

If my life were a coloring book, my nerves were a toddler coloring outside of the lines with his favorite green crayon.

“ **Shit, relax** ,” he says in his smooth voice. I could hear the awkwardness of the silence that comes after ringing in my ears, and right then I remembered a bit too late that he can probably feel my hand tensing up against his.

“ **Sorry**.“ I sigh. I’m making this a lot more painful than it should be. I realize I’m shaking and so does he.

“ **C’mere, ma**.” His arms gently pull me into them, changing the atmosphere around us. I’m pretty sure that he knows I’m not cold but that doesn’t deter him one bit.

His focus changes to the show again, and I have to stop myself from trying to break the silence by asking what time it is because I know what his answer will be for as long as Lumpy Space Princess is keeping his attention. That doesn’t stop me from staring, though.

I notice everything about him.

From his long eyelashes to the heart shape his lips make when they’re slightly parted. The way he always smells like oatmeal and baby lotion. When he switches out green hats after the one before gets warn and unwearable. The blue shoes he doesn’t bother to take care of. The stitches behind his ear. How his eyes get so small to the point of closing when he smiles.

I force myself to blink, but I don’t notice my eyes lower and my head tilt.

I want something, and I can’t decipher whether it’s to forge distance between us or to be even closer to him than I am now. To push him away, or to ease his attention away from Marcelene, away from Adventure Time, to me.

His hand was warm and inviting against my shaky one, – which I can pinpoint as nervousness – making my stomach churn. I was being distracted from weighing my options.

I feel him shift and I blink myself out of my thoughts before I realize he’s smirking at me.

“ **What**?” I ask defensively, before I can catch myself.

My mouth is dry.

And my voice is soft and weak even through my obvious frustration.

He lets his eyes dart away from mine, and I lick my lips before they meet again. His expression is different this time, hard to read. I can’t tell whether he wants to say something, or…

I don’t get the chance to figure it out for myself.

He takes the initiative to lean in, and my breath gets caught as he moves slowly at first. My head is already tilted and my lips, eager. The air between us thickens dramatically until there isn’t any.

Our lips lock.

My free hand instinctively slides up his chest, shoulder, creeping up his neck, sliding across the snaps of his lucky green hat until my fingers curve against the nape, bracing myself.

I’m lightheaded with the taste of mint and chocolate dancing on my tongue. A wave of victory hits me and takes the form of a happy sigh against his lips. My cheeks are warm, but a coy grin turns into easy laughter from the three of us – him, me, and  _Finn_ joining in from the television – while I take the opportunity to close any gaps, ready for more.

“ **Fuck** ,” he whispers, and I muffle my reply into a chaste giggle.

There I sit, completely distracted by the moment and then he grabs my face…

It took us almost an hour to stop kissing.


End file.
